Five Nights of Hans
by allhailhanna
Summary: You have accepted a job looking after a cursed prince for a few nights. He will try anything to seduce you into opening the door. Can you hold out until morning? Inspired by the newly-popular horror game Five Nights at Freddy's.
1. Night 1

_**Night 1**_

_**12AM**_

You hadn't met any of the resident princes upon arriving, only an eerily quiet butler who showed you to the room in which you would be staying. The job had sounded shifty, but you did need the money, even if all you had been told was to "keep an eye" on Prince Hans for a few nights.

It did comfort you that there was a little more explanation in the note left on the gold and red blankets of the bed on which you would not actually be allowed to sleep.

_I wanted to leave a message for you to help you get settled in your first night. As I assume you have been informed, you will be expected to look after our youngest brother Hans for a few nights so the rest of us can sleep in peace. When I say look after, it will be constantly and from afar. If he is being watched, he can't leave the castle. I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but there's nothing to worry about. You'll be fine. Just focus on getting through your first night. Our dear brother Hans does get a little—quirky at night, but do I blame him? No. If I was cursed in such a way that I had to be locked up night and day so as to avoid terrorizing the kingdom and I never got a day of freedom, I'd probably be a little irritable at night, too. In any case, it is imperative that you do not open your door to him, not even for a second, no matter what he says he'll do to you. He can't hurt you if you're in there._

_You'll notice I've left a couple of things on the bed for you. The mirror has magical qualities; it will show you any person you address. This is how you are to keep an eye on him, when his little…friends let him out of his cell. Do not worry, they won't attack you as long as you have that second item I left you—the candle. It isn't an ordinary candle. It is charmed to ward away my brother's friends, and will prevent them from unlocking your door. However, this sort of candle burns very quickly, and I only have enough for each of the five nights that you stay here, so only light it when absolutely necessary. Some of his friends may wander the halls so keep an eye on those if you can._

_He _will_ try anything to get you to open the door. The last __several __couple of attendants to whom we had given these duties have not __lasted too long__ been up to the __dangers __difficulties that this job entails. Don't let that intimidate you. You'll be fine! All you have to do is hold out until sunlight and Hans's little friends will have left._

_I would wish you luck but I am confident you don't need it! Tonight shouldn't be a problem for you as long as you are vigilant, stay awake, and do not open that door no matter what. One of us will come at daylight to let you out._

_- Prince Edvard_

_P.S. I just remembered, it might be in your best interest to keep the window's drapes drawn. Nothing should be able to come through the window, but there have been reports of disturbing apparitions that may haunt you in your sleep every night of your life unto your timely death. But nothing will actually happen to should you decide to leave them open._

This was a mistake.

Feeling surreal, feeling half-asleep, you picked up the magical objects on the bed. The mirror's silvery handle was cold and heavy in your hand, the glass impeccably clean. "Prince Hans," you said tentatively, feeling silly to address a mirror by someone's name. Your reflection twisted and the glass gave a faint green glow, and suddenly you were looking at not yourself but a handsome, redheaded man trapped in a cell that looked like it might have once simply been his bedchamber. It was like looking at a painting framed in a mirror, until he moved to scratch the back of his head. "Oh!" You dropped the enchanted device, definitely spooked.

The candle felt like any old plain white candle, but from close up you could see faint, silvery, foreign inscriptions along the wax. There was a silver candle stand on the table, beside a box of matches, and you fitted the candle into it, placing it by the door.

The hands of the clock in the corner seemed not to have moved, and you were already tired. "Wonderful."

"Are you watching me?"

You _shrieked_.

It had come from the mirror.

"If you responded, I can't hear you, but I know you're there. You're the new one, aren't you."

His voice was soft and deep. You tiptoed over to the bed, jumping on top of it to look into the mirror, careful to not let your feet dangle over the edge. The mirror showed the prince's face, the dark circles under his green eyes, his finger-brushed red hair, his freckled cheeks and crack-lipped but cheery smile.

"I'm sorry this is how we have to be introduced. I'm Prince Hans," he said. "I don't know your name. They didn't tell me. And I apologize for my appearance. I'm just…so tired."

Even tired, he _was_ beautiful. You couldn't see anything wrong with him. Why did they want you to watch him?

You waited for more, but he had stopped talking, sitting on the end of his bed to which he was restrained with long chains around his wrists and ankles.

Nervousness gone, you watched the mirror fade back to your reflection and you set it down. Perhaps this would be a normal night. Perhaps this was all an elaborate prank, the point of which you didn't care about as long as you were getting paid.

Five minutes had passed. There were a few books on a shelf, so you picked one up, settled into the bed, and opened it to read. Fairytales. Soothing.

_**Night 1**_

_**1AM**_

You set down the book and picked up the mirror. "Prince Hans," you said, and there he was in his room, reading a book just like…yours. "That's curious."

His shadow shifted.

It kept shifting.

It started stretching. You squinted. Could it be a trick of the light?

The shadow slipped its fingers into the keyholes of Hans's restraints. And he was free. You screamed.

"Don't worry, if you're still watching me," he said. "I'm not hurting you. It's not hurting you. We're several floors down." He smiled, looking less tired all of a sudden. "I may come visit you later tonight. I would at least like some idea of who's watching over me. Ahh…" He stood up, sighing. "Time to stretch my legs."

He opened his door. You kept a death grip on the mirror. Edvard had said he would "try anything" to get you to open the door, was this how? By befriending you and getting you to trust him? He had made it sound like death threats in the note.

You shoved the mirror under the pillow, pacing to get rid of the sudden sick feeling in your stomach. You would hear his footsteps if he came, right? You glanced at the box of matches and the candle, and then reached for the mirror again.

Prince Hans was in the library, it seemed. How close was that to you? Was he still floors below you? You really should have been watching the whole time.

"Calm down," you told yourself. "Calm down, you can make it. He doesn't look like he's coming after you. You'll be fine."

To calm down, you read the note over again, but it only agitated you further. By his "friends" did Edvard mean the shadows? You had only seen one, and it was his own. But just to be sure, you asked the mirror to show the rooms and hallways nearest your room.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You checked on Hans again. Still in the library.

_**Night 1  
2AM**_

You were startled awake by a knock on the door. How long had you been out! "Show me Hans," you said to the mirror, and behold, he was outside the door of your room. Heart thumping, you wasted no time in dropping to your knees to light the candle.

"Did you fall asleep? I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry." His voice sounded so much better in person. "Come out and say hello."

"Oh, no, they warned me," you said, trying to catch your breath. "They warned me not to open the door to you, no matter what. Please leave…"

"I can't stay here and talk to you?"

"The candle will burn out," you said, watching the wax drip. It did burn alarmingly fast. "Please go."

"Don't make me go," he asked softly. "Despite what they say, I won't hurt you. My friends won't, either. They're my friends."

He sounded very sincere, and actually, he was the first prince in this castle to whom you had spoken in person. Was it really more wise to believe a piece of paper? "Why…why do your brothers worry, then? Why are you cursed?"

You heard him sigh. "I did something…bad, once. I really hurt somebody, and that somebody had friends who are trolls. They cared about her a little too much, and decided to make me a scary person to be around. I guess I don't mind, because now I've got friends from the other side."

That sent a chill through you. You backed away from the door and checked the mirror. Hans didn't have any shadow at all.

"The other side of what? What will they do to me?"

"Nothing! They're just lonely souls," he insisted. "Please open the door. It's been years since I've seen a real person. I bet you're gorgeous."

You didn't know how to respond. He laughed.

"Describe yourself for me?"

You reached for the mirror again to give your description a try, but noticed the candle had melted down two inches. "No! No, you have to leave. Please."

"Can you draw?"

"Hm?"

"Can you draw yourself for me? Or write a description, if you don't want to talk. You can pass it under the door," he said.

"If I do that for you, will you please go away until I'm done with it?"

"Yes. I'll come back in ten minutes, will that be enough time?"

"Yes, now go," you said. His footsteps faded away down the hall and you sighed, feeling lightheaded. Summoning the mirror, you waited until he had turned the corner to snuff out the candle.

There happened to conveniently be paper and a pencil stuck in your room with you, and you did the best you could to capture your appearance as objectively as possible. When he knocked ten minutes later, you had just finished, hurrying to light the candle again.

You slid the edge of the paper under the door and backed away. "There."

"Thank you!" You heard him pick it up. "Let me just examine this for a moment…oh, is that true about your eyes? I'd love to see them in person. But I understand you're not planning to open the door any time soon."

"Got that right."

He was silent for a while. You checked the mirror; he was still there. "You…really are quite pretty."

"You don't know that," you said, blushing. "I could be lying."

"Well…if this is what you look like," he began, his voice having grown lower, purring a little. You waited for the end of his sentence but it didn't come, and instead he cleared his throat. "I think I'll go down to the kitchens. I'm starving. Would you like me to bring you something?"

"No thank you."

"Very well."

You heard his feet shuffling, and then a thud. The mirror showed the prince sprawled out on his belly, foot caught in the rug. "Whoops…"

Could he really be as bad as his brothers had implied? He seemed so…sweet. Even innocent.

_**Night 1**_

_**3AM**_

"You know."

He had returned without warning. Slamming the fairytale book shut, you dropped it and tumbled to the candle just as you heard something playing with the door handle.

"You really are very attractive, if I can trust what you've given me," he continued. "I wish I could play with your hair."

"What?"

"I just meant it seems fun to play with," he backpedaled. "And…I'm, I'm curious…do you find _me_ attractive?"

Clearly seclusion had no use for subtlety or manners.

You didn't answer.

"It's all right if you don't; I just want to know," he explained. "You see, of the _dozens_ of men and women who had your job before you, few have been able to get over their fear of me to give me a straight answer. I was once very beautiful, and it would bring me joy to find that I'm still seen that way. And if not, at least I'll know."

"You…you are," you said. "I think you are, anyway. Even with tired eyes."

"Can you describe myself to me?"

"You can't look in a mirror?"

"I want to see me how _you_ see me," he explained, hope in his voice. "I want to see myself the way someone as beautiful as you sees me."

You picked up the mirror and looked at that face, more youthful and lively as the night wore on. "Your hair is a very smooth auburn, just like your long eyelashes. Your sideburns frame your face nicely, and accentuate your strong jaw. Your eyes are a very specific sort of yellow-green, and you have full and rosy cheeks covered in freckles. Your nose…well, it's quite big, and quite sharp. But it looks good for you."

"Thank you," he nodded.

"Your lips are thin and rose colored, and your teeth are as white as freshly fallen snow," you continued. "Two of your teeth are very sharp, like a dog's."

He flashed them for you. "Do you like them? They make it very easy to bite into things. But, of course, I'm more gentle in biting a _person_."

"You bite people!"

"Oh! My dear, not like that," he said. "I don't have a taste for human flesh. I…was alluding to more intimate activities."

A drip of candle wax glinted in your vision. There was very little candle left. "Please go," you said, face burning as the idea of him biting into _anyone_ really sunk in. "Please. The candle will go out."

"Are you sure you want me to go?"

"I…y-yes, go! Please leave, I can't think of you biting people. It's too…"

"Frightening?"

"Well, no…g-go!"

He left and you blew out the candle. You weren't halfway through the hour.

He stayed away, mostly in the library again, and none of his "friends" seemed to wander anywhere. You were beginning to wish you had let him stay with you. It was getting lonely in here.

You wished you could pass more time with the book, but the last time you had done that, Hans's shadow had nearly opened the door. So you just waited, and watched, pinching yourself every time you began to nod off.

"Are you bored?" he asked through the mirror. "I would be, if I were you. You know, there are a lot of things you could do in your free time. I can think of a few more fun than reading that plain old book or trying to figure out how much time that candle has left."

You wondered what he could be talking about.

"Are you thinking about what I said? About biting?" he chanced, running a finger over one sharp canine. "You did say you found me attractive. I would be lying if I said I hadn't begun to fantasize. I know that sounds rude, but…I can't help it. And I want to bite you, dear, gently."

What was he _doing_.

"I want to leave bite marks on your bare neck and shoulders," he purred. "It's been so long since this tongue has run over warm, human flesh and tasted the sweat brought on by the heat of the moment…my darling, I fear I might already be idealizing you."

"Please stop," you whispered to the mirror as your thighs began to quiver.

_**Night 1**_

_**4AM**_

He had stopped with his descriptions of biting. Now you knew. Now you understood what his brothers had meant by "try anything." He would try to seduce you out of that room. You had two hours left and it was already working.

You _wanted_ him to keep talking. You wanted him to come stand outside your room and keep up with those descriptions of what he would do to you if he could.

You heard snoring. He had fallen asleep in the library. And his shadow was gone.

You checked every room and hallway you could think of, and there it was, his shadow, not three feet from your door. You hurried to light the candle, and watched patiently for five minutes until the shadow finally moved away so you could conserve that last inch of candle for as long as possible.

_**Night 1**_

_**5AM**_

One hour to go. You were comfortable enough to pick the book back up, but instead of seeing the words, you saw his face. It was there in your mind, the most real thing you had seen all night even if it had been through glass.

Focus on the book. Book. Book, mirror, candle. Book, mirror, candle. Prince Hans's face. A brief check of the hallway. His sleeping face again. He looked so peaceful. He looked so—

The doorhandle rattled. You checked the clock; still more than a half an hour to go, so it couldn't be his brothers. You lit the stub of the candle, beginning to panic. You were doing so well! What if it didn't go away this time?

But after ten minutes, it did. You still had _some_ candle left. Keeping your eyes on the hallway this time, you checked only it and the clock. And then Hans appeared in the hallway, stopping outside your door with a big yawn.

"Please leave!"

"Not a 'good morning'?" he said, feigning hurt. "My brothers will be awake soon. I don't have a lot of time left with you, and I wanted to hear your voice again." His own was scratchy from sleep.

"My voice?"

"I like it," he said, leaning against the door. You lit the candle again, nearly burning yourself on the match. "You have a very nice voice. I want you to say my name."

"Prince Hans," you offered shyly. In the mirror, he bit his lip, smiling. "Oh…"

"Say it again, please," he murmured, following it up with your name on his lips before you could open your mouth again.

"Hh-h. Hans," you repeated. You could hear the hint of an almost-moan. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yes," he said. "I really like when you say my name."

"I can tell…"

"Can you imagine what it would sound like if you were excited to see me? Or if you couldn't breathe?"

That sounded like a threat. "A-a-and why wouldn't I be able to breathe!"

"You'd be having a hard time catching your breath, my dear," he explained. "I have that effect on women and men when we're…well, alone together."

"Oh…"

"But I have to say, so far I'm more taken with you than anyone I've met, and I haven't even seen your face," he said. "I bet…if I saw you in the flesh, I would be unable to look away. It would be nearly impossible to repress the urge to hold you in my arms."

"Prince Hans, please," you whispered, tears in your eyes. "This isn't proper…"

"Do you want me to stop? I'm sorry, if you don't like it."

"I…well I don't dislike it," you said, instantly wishing you had just lied. "It's…we've only just met tonight, you highness…"

"I understand. It's all too much on your first night, isn't it. I'll behave, I'm sorry. Suppose I should just keep to myself the thoughts of caressing your face," his tired voice said, "and of whispering sweet nothings to you, and of biting your lips…"

You were leaning against the door yourself now.

"You mentioned my nose. Can you imagine it buried between your breasts as I cup them—did you ever describe anything besides my face? Because surely you've noticed my hands. I keep them in these gloves nearly all the time, you see. It keeps them soft and warm."

What candle?

You stared into the mirror as he slowly peeled off one glove, running his thumb over his index and middle finger. Mesmerizing.

"Please just let me touch you, once."

You heard a fizzle. The candle was out; your heart stopped. "No!"

The door handle clicked, clicked, clicked until it turned. You scrambled back to hide behind the bed, just as you heard the big clock down the hall chime six. A whisping noise; the door slammed shut, locking in place. You didn't hear Hans's footsteps. Boldly reaching for the mirror, you summoned his face, and there he was, chained in his cell again.

The lock began to click more and you shook your head in fear, but this time when it opened, a sleepy prince with chestnut brown hair and blue eyes smiled at you. "Good morning! I'm Edvard. Thought I would come in and check on you personally. Well…looks like you survived the night! Go on and get something to eat, get some sleep. Got another long night ahead of you, but I'm sure you'll do fine!"


	2. Night 2

**_Night 2_**

**_12AM_**

Another candle on the bed, alongside the mirror and another note. The handwriting was more elegant, and perhaps too elegant, with all its curls and swirls and variations on normally simple letters.

_I feel compelled to commend you on enduring_ _the first night. However, I should warn you not to feel too confident in yourself, seeing as our brother's attempts do grow increasingly more fervent with each subsequent night. Seeing as you have lasted longer than at least ten previous attendants that presently come to mind, of course, it's possible that you will make it another night. Good luck._

_- Jan_

That was definitely less comforting than Edvard's note. "Ten? How man have there been before me?"

"Even I've lost count."

You yelped, lighting the candle as soon as you could, nearly dropping the mirror as you summoned Hans's face to it. "You're out already!"

"I was eager to hear your voice. I got excited to be seeing the same person twice in a row. Did you sleep well today?"

No, you hadn't. Your daytime nap had been plagued with visions of shadows haunting every corner of this castle. "Yes, I slept fine. Please, please go away. It's not that I don't enjoy your company, in fact I think it's the only thing that kept me from becoming hysterical last night, but my candle…"

"I understand," he said. He sounded disappointed. "I suppose I'll go make something to eat. I'm feeling like something sweet tonight."

Damn, now you were hungry, too. You had six hours ahead of you and you were starving. Had he really needed to bring up the concept of food when you were—what was that on the table?

Was there actually…cake? On that table?

How terribly convenient.

You snuffed out the candle and went to look. It seemed so rich and chocolatey, all covered in sprinkles and with a jug of water and an empty glass sitting next to it. "Well thank you Prince Jan."

It certainly was the most decadent option for dinner, and it was god damn delicious.

You ate a good portion, washing it down with some nice cool water before you though to check the mirror. No, no shadows in the hallways. Hans was still in the kitchen. He was munching away on a delicious-looking cherry tart, and getting it all over his fingers—he had removed the gloves—and face. You smiled; he really was just a person.

With very nice, soft-looking, thick fingers, from which he now licked red cherry juice.

For a moment, his lips parted, and you could see his teeth grazing his forefinger.

**_Night 2_**

**_1AM_**

He had stayed away, which was awfully kind of him. At this point, you were actually getting a little bored—and more than a little antsy. You sort of wanted him to come sit outside your room and tease you more.

This hour went by slowly without his interaction. All you did was watch him as he roamed the castle, trapped inside of it. Several times, he would look out a dark window and sigh.

"You know…I have a horse. Named Sitron," he said. "I used to ride all the time. As often as I could get away with. I love to be out under the sun, just myself and my horse, in the fresh open air…but I can't do that anymore. Sometimes…sometimes I would go night riding." He looked like a little girl fantasizing about flying with the stars, his chin in his hand as he just gazed out the window of the drawing room. "I would go tonight, but you see, I'm being watched. By you. And as long as you're watching, I can't leave. Of course, I don't expect you to just drop the mirror and let me go. Why would you trust me?"

You were tempted, to be honest.

If Hans said anything else after that, you hadn't noticed; there was a tap at your window. You quickly went to light your candle—but the matches were gone! "Oh, no, no nonono, no…" Could they be under the bed? No…behind the bed? No. Had you misplaced them on the bookshelf?

The tapping got louder and so did your heartbeat. Tapping, pounding, tapping, pounding away as you checked and re-checked each possible location. And then there was a knock on the door and you screamed.

"It's just me," he said.

"Go away! I can't find my matches, I can't light the candle!"

"I have them," he said. "I found them in my pocket. My friends must have taken them from you; here." The little box of matches was slid under the door and you broke a match trying to light it. Once you had finally lit the candle, the tapping on the window stopped. You shivered hard, clutching the lit candle for dear life.

"H-how did they…how?"

"Next time, perhaps make sure I'm out of the hallway before you snuff it out."

Good idea. "Okay, now…now go."

"Did I hear tapping on the window in there?" he asked. "I couldn't help but—ugh. That particular friend of mine doesn't take rejection too easily. He'll still be there a while. So…while he is, I wouldn't be doing too much harm to just stay right here, would I?"

"Well…no."

You listened as he got comfortable against the door. It creaked as he leaned.

**_Night 2_**

**_2AM_**

"So have you been having a good night?" he asked after some silence.

"Aside from the tapping? Yeah…I-I see you enjoyed your little midnight snack."

"I've a bit of a sweet tooth," he admitted. "Oh! By the way, I _really_ hope you didn't eat any of the cake that was in there."

Oh, god. "What. Why. What is it. What did you do."

"I didn't do anything," he sighed. "Again, it was one of my friends from the other side. Don't worry, it isn't poisoned, but it…it's sort of charmed with a very…_powerful_ aphrodisiac."

"WHAT."

He chuckled despite himself. "Don't worry, don't worry. I'm sure you can hold out," he said.

"You need to leave. Right now. Right now, go. I can't have you at my door," you insisted. "Go right now. The candle is almost halfway gone, please go."

Well, he did. This time, you waited until he left the hallway to snuff out the candle. And you watched after him just for safe measure. Just…just as he walked down the stairs.

Had his pants always been so tight?

**_Night 2_**

**_3AM_**

Around fifteen minutes ago, he had begun to read "bedtime stories" to you, for fun. Fairytales. Childrens' stories. It was innocent enough, really, but his voice sounded really tired, and for some reason it made your heart race. He did really have such a deep, lovely voice.

And now he put the book down. "I'm sorry. I'm very tired of childrens' stories. I…I hope you don't mind, but there is a book I've been meaning to finish, and I do love reading aloud to you. The topic of the book isn't exactly something one discusses in mixed company. But it's just you and me tonight and I feel somewhat of an emotional connection to you, my dear watcher." He chuckled to himself. "My dear voyeur."

"God, stop."

"Let's see, where was I—ah." He leafed to the appropriate page. "You'll be a bit in the dark if I just start right here, so I'll just catch you up to speed: the hero of the tale is in love with the villain of it, you see, and vice versa. And of course their love is forbidden, but they still have found a way to make love in secret. Here, he has just confessed his undying love to her, and while they've both acknowledged that they shall never be allowed to marry, they haven't agreed to call off their tryst. Let me just…put on my reading glasses. The letters are a lot smaller…"

Was this man about to jump from fairytales to erotica?

"'_His lips sought her neck, his thirst for the forbidden taste of her skin enough to drive him mad. Where her fingers touched his skin, he burned, aflame with desire to bring her the pleasure he knew only he could achieve.'_"

He needed to stop. He had to. The more he read, the more you watched his lips, the more difficult it was to sit still. You huddled up in the bed, far too bothered to get tired as he read page after page in that sleepy voice of his, occasionally licking his finger to flip to the next page. Well, this was one way to stay awake…

"'_He could not control himself; not his hands as they touched her sweating thighs, not his hips as he—' _oh, god. Ahah…I don't think I can read any more of this tonight," he confessed. But I trust you enjoyed."

What a cheeky little—

"It seems one of my friends isn't here with me," he said, glancing around. "Have you been checking the hallways?"

Well, shit.

**_Night 2_**

**_4AM_**

"I missed your voice while I was away," Hans said through the door, leaning against it as you lit your candle. "We've less than two hours left. Do you think I can stay?"

You did not understand why him asking such a simple question was so arousing to you but his voice was right there, outside the door, and you needed it. "Yes."

He chuckled. "It wasn't very fair of me to read to you from that book," he said. "I just wanted to get a rise out of you. Did it work?"

"Ye-yes."

"Did you like it?"

His voice was almost a purr, like a playful tiger who knows his prey is cornered. "I did."

"Hmmmmh. That book is wonderful at getting me through particularly lonely nights. Again, it has been so, so long since last I touched someone," he almost whispered. You had to lean against the door to hear him. "Too long since I've had these hands on someone. Or kissed them, from top to bottom…poured out my affections in the best way."

"Hhhhave you…slept with a lot of women?" you found yourself asking, despite yourself.

"Oh, yes. And men. And I've been told I'm very good at what I do."

There were so many questions you wanted answered; so many gritty, dirty, improper and downright impolite questions about every disgusting detail of his sex life. Where the _fuck_ had this desire come from. But you didn't ask a single question, not one, just leaned against the door, breathing hard. He began to answer them on his own.

"I've been complimented on my capabilities with my hands," he said. "Apparently I've got an impressive grip. There was one girl I was with, she bruised really easily…in the mornings I could see the marks my fingers had left on her thighs and her rear and her hips, all purple and blue."

"Did she hate you for that?"

"She _adored_ me for it."

You checked the mirror for his face. He wore the most self-pleased grin as he recounted such tales through your door. "What…else have you been complimented on?"

"Well, let's see…I've been told I have quite a large—uhm, perhaps we'll save that one for last. I've been told by several that I'm very perceptive."

"Perceptive?"

"To one's needs. I know where to, hm, find what I'm looking for."

"I can't imagine what you mean by that…"

"If you would permit me, I could show you."

Everything was so warm. You almost opened the door right then so he _could_ show you, but you stopped yourself, about to open your mouth to tell him he should leave and take his temptation with him when he started to recount a detailed sexual encounter with another man who was apparently very limber.

**_Night 2_**

**_5AM_**

Just one hour to go. The candle was not going to make it, you knew, but you couldn't tell him to go away just yet.

Because now he was back in the habit of telling what he would do to _you_.

"I feel like I need to prove it to you," he said. "I feel very strongly about you believing what I can do. Especially that part about my tongue. It's true."

"Please," you breathed, ashamed at your desperation.

"If you open the door, I really could show you. I would caress every inch of you. Kiss your tender neck, and if you would permit me, leave behind a mark or two. I would keep you in my lap and not let you touch me until I had brought you a satisfying amount of pleasure. And you do want to touch me, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I would be as gentle as you need—unless gentle is not what you need. If anywhere I hurt you, I would kiss it until you felt better, my dear. My watcher. Can you believe me? Can you believe how gentle my touch would be to your soft skin? As I lift your dress above your head and my hands roam your breasts, shoulders, stomach, thighs…as you lie on your stomach and I'm above you, kneading the pain and tenseness from your back, dear, because tonight has been tense for you, I'm sure."

"It's been frustrating, at least."

He laughed quietly. "Can you imagine as I play with the soft lumps of your ass, can you imagine me telling you in your ear how nice your warmth feels in these lonely hands?"

"Yes, yes I can," you said. "I am. I'm imagining every word."

"Are you imagining my breath on your neck?"

"Yes, _oh_ yes."

"On your thighs?"

"Prince Hans, please…"

"Won't you open the door so I can show you?"

You shook your head, which of course, he didn't hear; he just went on with his teasing promises of sensuality as you sat by the door with your knees scrunched to your chest, heart pounding as you watched a dark wisp of smoke rise from the candle.

You shot away from the door. "You need to leave. You have to leave, the candle is out. Please, please leave!"

"But—"

"_Leave!"_

You heard a sigh and a shuffle and he did, and you checked the mirrors, relieved to see Hans's shadow leaving with him.

The next ten minutes, you spent trying to calm yourself down, and then finally there was a knock on the door as someone unlocked it.

A very young man with reddish brown hair opened the door. "Oh good, another successful night, I see."


	3. Night 3

**_Night 3_**

**_12AM_**

This was by far the most sensible note you had been left.

_You have lasted two nights, which is incredible. You have returned for a third night, which is incredibly stupid. Seeing as you've survived this long, I can rule out the possibility that you're an idiot, and you probably really need what we're paying you. I just want to let you know that you can back out of this job at any point and I'll pay you in full. On the other hand, you've been the most competent person at this job in months. I'll leave the decision up to you but you have my respect. Just keep reminding yourself that Hans is not a trustworthy individual, and he's a selfish bastard. I'll get you in the morning._

_- Theodor_

When you consulted the mirror, Hans was still asleep. You placed the candle in its stand, mentally preparing yourself. There was no cake on the table, the curtains were shut, you had the matches in your hands and you sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting for something to happen.

He was sleeping in today, it seemed. Though it didn't seem to be a peaceful sleep. His eyebrows were close, worried. His lips were open, his jaw was clenched. As you watched, he got more aggravated. The mirror was getting fuzzy, or something; his image was darker. Then suddenly it blacked out and a pair of glowing dots like angry yellow eyes flashed across the glass. You screamed, running for the candle with the mirror clutched tightly in your shaking fist.

You could see Hans again, but now he was awake, shadow unlocking his restraints. "Had a nightmare," he yawned, looking tired. You noticed he had a fair amount of stubble; perhaps it hadn't been noticeable enough last night. "That's all I ever have these days. I hope you're doing all right up there. I apologize for last night; I won't come up to visit any time soon." He looked around his room. "Now the question is: what shall I do tonight?"

You did a brief check of the halls and rooms near you before returning to Hans. You were still shaking, heart drumming, and you forced yourself to relax and lean back against the door.

"It's a lot like being a kid again," he said. "All this free time, no one to play with, nothing useful to do."

There was a wardrobe in the room that you hadn't noticed before. Fixing the collar of his shirt, he opened it, sifting through the contents. "Do you ever get tired of what you have to wear? It's funny, really, I have all these clothes and none of them are appealing to me at _all _right now." He paused. "You know, who has some really nice clothes is Edvard. He doesn't really live here, technically speaking, but he started visiting more when I started…acting out. I believe he's gone back to his wife today."

An excited, almost childish smile stole across his face as he left the room, shadow following him.

Did he intend to model for you?

You watched with curiosity as he opened his brother's door and started picking out things to change into, lining them up neatly on the bed. "I trust you not to peek," he said. "Then again, it's not like I could stop you. Or would mind much," he added with a wink.

You blushed as he started to unbutton his shirt, untucking it from his trousers first. His suspenders hung down in loops by his legs. He turned, the mirror displaying him from the back now as he shrugged off the shirt and threw it on the bed. You could see every muscle in his arms and back, awed by that appealing dip in the middle of his back through which his spine traveled. Damn, and your heart had_ just _stopped racing.

From this view, you could clearly see the definition of his well-toned backside.

You switched the mirror's view to the hallway, checking each and every room meticulously and then doing so again.

And then you switched back to Hans, of whom you could see the front as he finished pulling up a pair of very tight, dark red trousers.

**_Night 3_**

**_1AM_**

He had tried on 3 sets of _very_ nice clothes and you were short on breath. It wasn't just him trying them on, either, no. He had to pose in the full-body mirror for himself, meticulously straighten everything out, view himself from the side, check how snugly the pants fitted his rear, thighs, and shins, and flex his biceps so he could complain about Edvard not needing to accommodate for muscles.

And there was still more to try on.

Just now, he was changing into a rich brown suit accented with yellows and reds. He admired himself in the mirror again, holding one hand behind his back, smiling at himself, greeting himself, pretending to bow.

"I think I look very smart in this one," he said. "I think…I think the look isn't finished. I need glasses."

He bent to search through the drawer of Edvard's bedside table, rear end in the air. It was just so _round_. Placing the glasses on his face, he went to the mirror again. "Ah yes…that works. But…perhaps it would work better if I were clean-shaven."

Still dressed up, fixing the position of the glasses every once in a while, he made for a sink and found a straight razor behind the mirror. You didn't understand what he was trying to pull here…until he actually started shaving.

There was something incredibly attractive about seeing his neck and jaw from every angle, seeing a blade run across his skin, his fingers tugging on his skin to keep it taught. Him peering down at himself in the mirror. He was very careful around his sideburns, taking meticulous time to shape them just right. You kept watching as he washed his face and then carefully trimmed those very bushy sideburns until he looked like a proper gentleman.

He gave his reflection a saddened sigh. "It's so nice to get all dressed up. Even if I'm not…well, going anywhere." The glasses kept sliding down his nose so he took them off and tucked them into his shirt collar. "Well. Can't mope around all night. I still don't think this is quite the right outfit."

**_Night 3_**

**_2AM_**

He had started ballroom dancing with his shadow. Disturbing, yet oddly charming. He talked to it like he was talking to you—or some other girl he had known more intimately. You couldn't be bothered to puzzle it out; you had had to light your candle. There was tapping on the window _and_ door; you hadn't been mentally prepared for it.

They didn't go away for _far_ too long and once, when you checked on Hans, he didn't have his shadow to dance with anymore. He just sat there in a chair, looking so abandoned, and then took the opportunity to read.

"Do you remember this book from last night?" he asked softly. "Shall I read to you again?"

Adrenaline already pumping from the shadows at your window and door, you shook your head vigorously, fully aware he couldn't see you. But he chuckled like he had.

"I won't read it to you tonight, don't worry. I've got more substantial books I've been wanting to read, anyway."

This is when it got really frustrating, because he wasn't doing anything. He was just reading, looking inexplicably sexy while doing it, not talking to you at all, and you still had two shadows on your tail. They wouldn't go away and you were nearly halfway down your candle. If this wasn't the most stressful moment of your life, you had no idea what could be.

**_Night 3_**

**_3AM_**

Finally the shadows had left. You had less than half a candle to go. Hans was still reading. No, he was staring blankly over his book. "It's halfway through the night. I think now is a good time to come up and see you."

"No, no," you tried to tell him, looking nervously from your short candle to the clock to Hans as he came through the halls. You knew that the moment he got here you wouldn't be able to tell him to leave. You were going to die tonight.

You braced yourself, hands shaking as you prepared to strike the match. At the same time, you were happy he was coming. Talking to him was the highlight of this job. You just wished it didn't have to be so stressful.

"Hello."

"Hi," you sighed, lighting the candle. "You look really nice tonight."

"Oh? I take it you appreciated the show?" he said, a chuckle in his voice. "How have you been tonight?"

"Stressed out. Two of your little friends stayed at my door for almost half an hour."

"Oh, so you don't have much candle left, do you," he said. You picked up the mirror so you could watch him. He combed his fingers back through his hair, scratched his smooth chin, and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, baring his strong, hairy forearms. "I wish you would let me in."

"I can't."

"I know you won't," he said. "But I feel like if I could just see you, it would be easier to leave you alone for longer. I don't know…"

"Hans, I really wish I could let you sit here and talk to me. Really."

"I love your voice…"

"Please…"

He sighed, cleaning his glasses on his shirt before tucking them into his waistcoat pocket. "I should change, anyway. Edvard's pants are far too tight. It's getting uncomfortable."

You sighed as he got up and left, snuffing out the candle once he was out of the hallway. This was too much. It was getting emotional. Sure, he was sure of himself and tended to say _very_ inappropriate things at times, but he didn't seem to want to hurt you.

You looked over the note for tonight.

"Selfish."

Well, if wanting contact with another human being was considered selfish, then yeah, you supposed Hans was selfish. Maybe they were all too hard on him. It wasn't his fault he was cursed like this—well, it was. It was. But that was in the past.

You warned yourself not to keep making excuses for him. If you kept doing that, who knows; you might have let him in.

So you checked the mirror again, hallways first, and when you got to Hans, he was in the midst of undressing. Your cheeks colored and you were so shocked that you really couldn't look away as he stood nearly naked in the dark room. You could see the definition of _everything_ to do with his body. This certainly didn't help matters.

**_Night 3_**

**_4AM_**

He held out for a long time before coming to the door again. The shadows came close but never to your door, which you counted as an act of mercy.

You felt bad for having to send him away. He looked so dejected, now, pacing the halls, until the hour was nearly up and he came to visit you again.

"I couldn't stay away," he apologized.

"Hello again."

He was in a set of his own clothes which fit him better. Leaning against the door, he rolled his sleeves up again, looking back at the door wistfully. Looking at you, to the best of his ability. "How long do you think that candle can hold out?"

"Not long."

A little silence.

"Did you watch as I was undressing?"

"H-Hans…"

"It's okay if you did. Did you like what you saw?"

"Please…"

"Did you imagine undressing me yourself?" he asked, tugging on his collar. "Did you imagine taking off my waistcoat? Undoing each button of my shirt to reveal my naked body?"

You blushed, ashamed.

"Did you imagine…pulling down my pants? Kneeling in front of me to get them off? Do you like the shape of my legs?"

"Yes," you wish you hadn't said. Encouraging him was a bad thing.

"You do?" He sounded flattered. "Well, thank you. I won't ask you how you liked the shape of…other things, as well. I'll spare you the embarrassment."

"God…"

"But I know how to make you picture it." He was smiling, the idiot. "I have too much fun with you. If only we could see how much more fun I could have if you opened the door…"

**_Night 3_**

**_5AM_**

You probably were going to die tonight, you decided. You were going to let him sit there and talk about his body until the candle fizzled out, and the shadows would come for you, and you would die.

And now he had moved on to talking about undressing _you_. And you couldn't find the willpower to make him stop. Because it just sounded so good.

"And then, after your shoes are off," he continued, his voice tired now, "I'd let your hair down. I'd stand behind you and take out every pin, clip, and tie, and run my fingers through your hair, and, if you would permit me…I'd kiss the top of your head. I'd breathe in the smell of your hair and feel its softness against my lips and chin and in my fingers.

"Then I'd help you out of your dress. I'd watch your arms slip out of your sleeves, baring your shoulders. God, I bet you have the cutest shoulders. I'd bite them, if you let me."

"I'd let you," you whispered, hoping he hadn't heard.

"I'd unlace your corset, freeing you. If you got too cold, I would hold you, my dear, don't worry. You'd be almost bare by now and as I finished removing your underclothes…ooh." You watched as he bit his lip. "Perhaps I should stop there."

"Please, keep going."

"What, you want me to?"

You shook your head at yourself, keeping silent for only a few seconds. "Yes. I do. It feels so wrong because we've never even properly _seen _each other but here I am craving for your voice to tell me about all the things you would d-do to me. How you would hold me and kiss me, undress me, caress me if only this door weren't in the way, and I could…I could run my fingers through your hair. I could feel you. I…"

"You can," he said. "You can have more than just my voice. Just open the door. Please."

You covered your mouth up and shook your head, not able to speak for fear that your lips would betray you. Suddenly you heard the candle flicker out. This was it. This would be the moment. You still had five minutes left, and there was no way you were going to survive.

But nothing tried to open the door.

Confused, you checked the mirrors, finding a couple of shadows in the library and kitchen. "Hans…is your shadow with you?"

"Hm? Oh, it appears not."

You could…you could open the door. You could, for a brief moment, before the shadows came back. Even if they did come back, you were screwed. You really had nothing to lose.

So you did it; you picked up the key you had been left with, and opened the door.

There he stood, as shocked as you, even more beautiful than the mirror had shown you. Your breath left you as he smiled, doe-eyed.

"You're…prettier than I imagined," he whispered, reaching out to touch you. But as soon as he did, three shadows darkened the hall.

"I'm so sorry," you spat out, slamming the door in his face and locking it.

"HEY!" He pounded a fist against the door, once, briefly, loudly. You felt like crying. Hiding behind the bed, hoping the shadows wouldn't come for you, you watched the clock for the remaining two minutes. It seemed like an eternity.

Then, miraculously, you didn't hear his presence anymore.

Someone turned the key in the lock on the other side of the door. You heard it open, but no one spoke for a long moment.

"You in here?" said a gruff voice. You stood up from behind the bed, trying to control your shaking as you looked up at the old, tired face of the burly man in your doorway. He blinked. "Why are you still here? Seriously, go home, and stay there. You're a fool if you come one more night."

"Well, I feel…I feel like I would let you all down if I did that."

He shrugged and sighed. "Guess you would. Now come on, I came to get you out of this hellhole. Go live your life today. Or sleep through it, I don't actually give a damn."


	4. Night 4

**_Night 4  
12AM_**

No note tonight, just the candle and a mirror. You wondered what this meant. Perhaps they didn't think they needed to assure you of anything at this point, or warn you. Perhaps they'd forgotten. It didn't really matter, because you didn't need any more warning; you knew what you were up against. Reassurance, however; that, you needed a little bit more of.

Not half an hour in, you already knew you were hopeless. He wasn't going to hold back this time.

He got out of bed, he stretched, he undressed. Shamelessly and without warning, even talking do you while he did so. "I've been thinking of you," he said, hands deftly fixing his outfit. "I dreamed of you. It was a good dream. I haven't had a good dream in…literally, years."

You tried to ignore him. Your heart was already thudding. The sight of him, face to face with you in the doorway last night, his face awed as if he had seen the sun for the first time in his life…you wanted to see him look at you like that again. You wanted to stop being hunched over a mirror, hiding out alone in your room with naught but a candle for company.

His shadow seemed darker, with a harder edge tonight. You wondered what that could mean and you doubted it was anything good. Still, it behaved, staying with Hans as he went through his routine of preparing some food and nestling down into his chair to read.

He pushed aside half of the sandwich he had prepared for tonight. "I don't feel like eating, actually. At least, not food." He chuckled to himself. You wondered if that was supposed to be a euphemism. "And I can't abide reading small words on a page, not when I know you're up there pining for me. But if I sit outside your door this early in the night, I know you'll send me away. So I can hold out for now. I don't have to hear your voice just yet. You can just listen to mine."

And so began your most difficult night.

He described your lips in lively detail, tracing them out into the air as if they were inches from his own. "But I'd save those," he said. "Because first I'd have to take you into my arms and kiss your head, your forehead, apologize for all the trouble I've caused you. I'd murmur it against your skin and you'd close your eyes and I'd kiss your eyelids and feel them flutter. Oh, your eyelashes, darling, I'd feel those flutter against my lips, and you'd see me smile just before I kissed your nose, and then either cheek. But still I wouldn't kiss your lips, yet, my dear. I'd kiss your ear. I might nibble it…oh, I know you'd like that. We've covered this topic before. But let me describe in greater detail how I would suckle on that soft lobe of your ear, and you'd be able to feel my breath behind it and on your neck. Did you shiver? I swear I can feel it."

You had.

"God, that's all I would do, just kiss you, for hours; take my agonizing time no matter how much you pleaded for me to go faster. I'd kiss your neck all over. Are you imagining my hot, wet, hungry mouth on your neck, dear? The sensitive side of it, and behind it as I cradle your head to my shoulder…my breath rolling down the back of your neck, my fingers twisted in your hair. I wouldn't bite you, not yet, though I know you'd love for me to. Then I would begin to undress you, like I described last night—no, forget that. I'd _tear_ your clothes off you. They would be shreds. I need you."

You had begun, unconsciously, to loosen the tie on the back of your dress, and then to fiddle with the hem of your skirt.

"Picture my tongue—searing hot, thirsty for you—tracing your collarbone between kisses on your shoulders. Perhaps I would lick a line connecting the bruises. Yes, that's what I would do." His voice grew deeper. The reflection of his eyes looked into yours as if he could actually see you. "I'd bite both of your pretty little shoulders, suckle hard enough to leave fat, purplish bruises that you'd have a time covering up. And then my tongue would leave a wet trail between them. I'd blow a breath over that trail and relish in the tiny bumps raised along your skin. And then, good God. And then your _breasts_."

You were bright red now, tingling feelings raking through your body. You stood up and tried to walk it off. This was too much, and still you daren't look away from his reflection; the way his lips pronounced all the sensuous things he wanted to do to you.

"I could probably take one whole one into my mouth," he said with a lecherous smile. "I bet I could. I would certainly try, can you imagine, dear? The way my lips would kiss and slip over one of your round breasts, how my mouth would spread and slide to accommodate all of you, how my tongue would caress your taught nipple, how my teeth would scrape and tease your skin? And once I had all of it in my mouth, I'd suck, locking eyes with you the whole time so I could see your face contorted in pleasure."

Your knees wobbled and hit the carpet. You hadn't been prepared. Not at all, not at _all_.

"And then, I might spin you around, my darling, and hold you to my chest, and then kiss down the back of your neck again and not stop all the way past your shoulderblades. I wouldn't stop past your hips. I would leave a kiss on each bump of your spine, dear, all the way down to the dimples above your buttocks. I'd be kneeling, by this point, my dear, and then I'd make you turn and face me again so I could teethe the soft flesh of your belly, press my tongue into your navel, lick your hipbones and the sensitive dip between them. Have you ever touched yourself there? Have you ever chanced to flutter your fingers across that delicate, intimate space, while you were alone in your bed on a hot summer night? Did you shiver? Imagine my tongue there. My lips. The tips of my teeth. I'd leave my kisses everywhere on you. I'd turn you around again—I don't mean to make you dizzy, I swear, just being thorough—and bite at your bare arse the same way I'd done to your stomach. All that soft, plump flesh of your backside—should I do the same trick I attempted with your breasts, and see how much I can fit in my mouth? Perhaps that wouldn't be as successful. But I would kiss instead, making sure to get every inch, spreading you apart, oh dear I'm getting very visual now, aren't I."

You set down the mirror and held onto a bedpost, trying to maintain your regular breathing.

"And I'd kiss the backs of your quivering thighs and can you feel my hands on them? Surely you can feel them holding you in place while I press my nose, my face, my mouth into your flesh and continue to praise your body. You can't see me because I'm behind you but if you could…well, it would look like this," he demonstrated, using the chair as a stand-in for you as he knelt in front of it. "I'd look like this, with my hands clutching your legs as I sink lower, just like this…and then I'd spin you around again. I'd kiss up each of your shins, taking my _agonizing_ time until I come to that very soft nook in the top of your thigh—you know where, you've probably dipped your fingers there, as well—and I'd let you shiver and moan as finally I kissed all the way back up your stomach, across your neck, under your jaw, and kissed your lips. Gently. Softly."

**_Night 4  
1AM_**

Shameful, shameful. You scolded yourself to stop pushing your hand against that heated place between your thighs. You were still fully clothed and would remain that way for the rest of the night, you _swore_ it. And he wasn't finished, onto the last of several descriptions of how he would kiss just your mouth.

How he would bite your lips and tongue and push you down as he did so. He gave you vivid imagery of how his tongue would play with yours, would dance with yours, would dominate yours, and at one time he licked his lips.

"And after," he moved on, "after I finished kissing every _inch_ of you…I'd do it again. Just to make sure I hadn't missed a spot. And this time I'd keep you wrapped up in my arms, my hands playing with you, with your hips and your thighs, your buttocks, your breasts. Feel my hand cradle the back of your neck, and pinch it, and rub it, rubbing away all that tension from having to watch over me. Kiss your neck again, hold your hips, hold them close to me so your naked body could feel me through my clothes."

You stared off into space as his words trickled over you, lost in the imagery he presented. He was careful to mention every detail. That sinful warmth pooling in your lower stomach began to spill out between your thighs and you wanted to cry because it felt so wrong but _so_ good.

"And then I'd bite—" Again with the biting. No no, you couldn't even stand right now. Had he…had he slipped you something? Another aphrodisiac? Or had he just gotten under your skin _that_ much on his own? "—and down between your thighs, where those bitemarks wait for me to reveal them—" Lord. He wasn't going to relent. "—and let you feel mine, as well, because I know how badly you want to touch—" You were on the bed on your stomach, clutching a pillow to your chest and face as you kept your legs tightly crossed. Nuzzling the pillow, you waited for him to stop—and as his voice grew more and more tired and hoarse, eventually, he did.

And you watched him as he slept, and tracked the shadows when they left him, and prepared yourself to sit by the door with a match waiting for its candle.

**_Night 4_**

**_2AM_**

The window knocking had started, accompanied by something new: scratching at the door. That was unsettling, to say the least, but as long as you had your candle, they wouldn't get in. They couldn't get in. You hoped to God they wouldn't.

Hans was still asleep, lazily so, a god in a fishing boat sleeping through a storm. You wished he would wake up and call off the shadows, because somehow you'd gotten it in your head that he had at least _some_ control over them. And even if not, hearing his voice would help; his calm, or happy, or teasing voice to keep the mood light as the shadows hunted.

You played back his words in your head, over and over, fixating on certain phrases that made you thrill with heat and need. Oh, please wake up, please wake up and keep teasing…or just do _something_. Talk about your miserable childhood or how badly you messed up with that one princess. Talk about your horse.

He slumbered on. The shadows came and went. Your candle melted and shrank.

**_Night 4  
3AM_**

He still wasn't awake and you were on the verge of tears, and way past the verge of thinking too deeply; like about the fact that Hans was really your only friend at this point in time, and how badly you depended on his company. You didn't know how you could let yourself live like this, caring so deeply about a man cursed to live with his own demons.

You had to remind yourself they _were_ his demons. He was cursed because of something terrible _he_ did, and he deserved this, you were sure. You certainly couldn't call him an innocent man by any stretch of the imagination.

Yet you still cared about him and had sympathy for his situation. And right now, you missed him.

"I wish I knew how to un-curse you," you found yourself saying as you stroked the edge of the mirror. Perhaps in some supernatural way, he heard or felt you, because no sooner had you said that than he woke up.

He smiled and yawned. "I had a good dream," he said. "I dreamed about you. I dreamed about…mh, well, something like the things I've been telling you…only this was a bit…more. Oh—it seems my shadows are missing. Are they visiting you? I hope you're not too frightened."

You didn't want to talk about shadows. You wanted him to talk about his dream.

"You know…I really should stop telling you all the things I want to do to you," he said. "It really isn't fair to you at all; not either of us, really. So I'll stop for now. But I do feel like talking…so…do you think it's time for some fairytales?"

It was sweet of him, really, but a couple nights too late. You were already ruined by his words and you wanted more of them. But you listened, anyway, to the fairytales. They soothed you. Eventually Hans's shadows returned to him, and you blew out the candle's flame, hoping that less than half a candle could get you through the rest of the night.

**_Night 4_**

**_4AM_**

Not quite halfway through the hour, Hans made himself comfortable in your hallway. "I held out as long as I could," he said.

"It's perfectly all right," you insisted, trying to ignore how quickly the candle burned. "I missed…talking to you."

"You did?" The unmasked glee in his voice broke your heart. "You missed me."

"Yes, I did."

"I'm sorry for all the things I said," he apologized abruptly. "About undressing and kissing you. It hadn't occurred to me that it might be uncomfortable for you."

You didn't know how to reply to that, because truthfully, you were more than okay with imagining him doing such intimate things to you; but it would be unladylike to admit it. "It…was inconsiderate of you, yes."

"Oh."

Silence.

"But…what's more inconsiderate," you said, huddling your knees to your chest, preparing to pray for your sinful soul, "is that you would mention having a dream about me, and not tell me. After all, I was in the dream, so it clearly involves me."

His expression in the mirror changed to a face of knowing smugness. He wasn't sorry at _all_. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"It's quite explicit."

"I don't care." Wait, you cared a little—

"Well." He settled himself more comfortably against your door, leaned his head back against it, combed his fingers through his hair. "I had you…pinned to this door," he said, "this stupid door. It was you and me in the candlelight. Your back to the door, your hands to the door, under my wrists…your legs around me, the skirt of your dress hiked up."

You shrank into an even tighter ball.

"The top of your dress pulled down so I could see your breasts, pert and aroused, ready for my teeth to graze them. And then, all at once, _my_ back was to the floor. You were naked. I was at your mercy. Mmh, how you bounced up and down on my hips…your lusty moans echoing through the room…"

"Please," you whispered, not knowing what you pled for.

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry, keep going…"

He chuckled.

"I flipped us over, and I spread your knees apart, and I _fucked_ you."

"Oh dear…"

"Fucked you so hard you started screaming." His voice grew low and growly. "Left bruises on your thighs with my fingers. I—I'm sorry, was that too much detail?"

**_Night 4_**

**_5AM_**

"And what would you do to me?"

His voice was hoarse. Your candle was an inch tall. You needed to tell him to go away. "What do you mean?"

"If I was in there with you," he began to whisper, "what would you want to do with me? I've told you all the terrible things I'd do with you, so…tell me, dear watcher. What would you do to me, if you had me in there with you, at your complete disposal?"

You flushed brightly. "I can't…I can't tell you."

"Please?"

Who could it hurt? You couldn't touch each other. You were only talking about it. And ever since last night when you had opened the door, had looked on his face and his form, you had been suppressing thoughts of exactly what you wanted to "do" to him. Heart racing in your chest, making your lips quiver, you began, "I-I want to kiss you."

"That's a start."

"And while I kiss you…while I kiss your lips, I want to touch you all—all over. Over your clothes. I want to get to…to know you before I see you naked," you said, blushing heavily. "And…I would…I would wrap my arms around your neck and press my cheek against yours. I would feel the warmth of your skin and we would dance softly as you held me. Oh, this is embarrassing…"

"It's not," he said. "It's sweet. Please continue."

You took a deep breath. "I would want it to be slow, at first. I'd look into your eyes as I started to undress you, and you would have to be patient."

"I wouldn't be patient," he laughed. "I'd try to kiss your neck."

"I would push you away," you said. "And tell you to wait…and…I'd r-run my fingers through the hair on your chest."

In the mirror, he bit his lip. "Please go on."

"I would grab your shoulders so that I could reach your ear to kiss it, and to…and to whisper something obscene into it. And then I would…I would push you back onto the bed, and undress in front of you, and ask you to praise my body—"

"With my hands?"

"With your words," you said, growing a bit more confident. "I'd tell you to point out everything you liked. And then I'd kiss you some more and…uh, and then…and we'd make love."

"How would we make love?"

"We just would. Like one of the ways y-you think of."

He moaned or purred and you more felt it through the door than heard it. He bit his lip, his green eyes slits under his long lashes. "But there are so many ways, my dear. How would you most like to do it, hm? How would you want me to make love to you? I can't be the only one getting what I want."

You shook your head, forgetting he couldn't hear you. "I-I…"

"You need help, perhaps. Well…I could pleasure you, first," he said. "I could start with kissing."

"You already described kissing."

"I mean," he chuckled, "I would start between your pretty legs. I would spread you apart and kiss you down there…take a moment to picture it. Is that what you want?"

"I…yes…"

"Okay. So while I'm kneeling, kissing—"

"No, you wouldn't be kneeling," you said, regaining that hint of boldness from earlier. "You would be lying on the bed. I would…uh, I'd be…on top of you."

"Oh!" He seemed very pleasantly surprised, shuffling where he sat. "So you would ride your prince's face."

"And I would grab your hands and put them on my thighs. I imagine you have a firm grip."

"I do."

"S-so…I would do that. Until it was enough. And then—" You found yourself reaching unconsciously for the doorhandle. He was so close to you. You could see on his face, in his smile, his wet lips, that he wanted to please you. If you just let him in…

The candle began to fizzle, flame dancing on top of a bubbling pool of wax. You gasped, darting away from the door. "Hans, you have to go. My candle. It's almost out."

"But I—"

"Please, Hans!"

He left, however reluctant, and fortunately none of his shadows stayed behind. You huffed out the candle and crawled onto your bed, dying to get some sleep.

But Hans kept you up, speaking to you through the magic mirror.

"So you would ride my face, my lady," he said as he settled onto the library's sofa. "You would feel my soft lips against your most sensitive parts. Imagine where I would kiss and _suck_ you. My fingers dimpling the flesh of your thighs, the hair on my cheeks" He ran a finger over each of his neatly-kept sideburns "tickling and stroking your sensitive skin. My teeth nibbling at you here, there, elsewhere. And I wonder what else you wanted me to do to you, but I guess I'll have to ask tomorrow night. We'll just drive each other mad again, wanting each other's skin and heat and heartbeat with only that door keeping us apart. But if that's how you want it, I suppose that's how it'll be."

A very young brother came to fetch you when the clock struck six. Prince Lukas yawned, combing a hand through his messy black hair, covered an incriminating mark on the side of his neck. "Sorry I didn't leave a note. I was…a bit busy, last night, before bed."

"That's fine," you said dazedly, secretly jealous of the purpling spot on his neck.


End file.
